World of Make Believe
by Raiast
Summary: ONESHOT Everyone secretly wondered how Harry Potter kept sane throughout the roughest times of his life. Draco Malfoy unintentionally finds out, and what he finds surprises and puzzles him. NOT slash!


The sleeping boy opened his eyes only to squint them immediately against a blinding light as it collided with his unfocused pupils. He sat up slowly, pushing against the soft, green grass, his white-blonde hair falling into his face as he did so. He took in his surroundings slowly, still in a half-asleep daze. Where was he?

It seemed he was outside by the lake at Hogwarts, except upon looking around, Draco couldn't see the castle anywhere. The sky was a perfect blend of red and orange, such as sunset, but a large red sun was still hanging where it would at high noon. The lake in front of him was a foreboding purplish-green, and it seemed to take on an iridescent shimmer when the surface was disturbed. He stood slowly. The only thing that seemed to be the way it should was the grass, which was the proper texture and shade, save for the fact that it crunched under his feet as if coated in an early winter frost.

He moved over to the edge of the lake, staring intently at the discolored water; mesmerized by the small waves and ripples that the wind caused to form. He bent down and dipped his hand in it slowly, determined to capture the beauty and mystery of the shimmering liquid. He found the lake to be filled with a substance that wasn't water at all, but more of a sludgy mud-like mess. He recoiled his hand quickly in disgust, no longer finding the lake an interesting entity to study.

He walked along the lakeside quietly, debating whether or not he was dreaming. It didn't feel like a dream, he discovered, but he also reasoned that a place such as the one he was at couldn't possibly exist on Earth. Red suns in red skies, purple mud and frozen grass in 80 degree weather? It wasn't logical at all. He was trying to figure out how he'd ended up in there in the first place, if it in fact wasn't a dream, when he came upon a person, sitting at the edge of the mud-lake.

Draco ceased his steps, watching the figure intently, waiting for them to move. They didn't. They weren't aware that they weren't alone. Or didn't care.

"Where am I?"

The body stiffened, and turned to him slowly. Draco locked gazes with a pair of shocking green eyes, which were glaring at him fiercely. The boy pushed his mop of dark hair out of his face, unintentionally revealing a curiously shaped scar on his forehead. Draco didn't need to see said scar to know who the boy was; he knew his enemy's face in his sleep, which could very well have been the case at that moment.

"This is my place. Go away."

Draco scowled at his teenage nemesis, approaching him slowly, in a sauntering fashion. "I don't know how I got here, Potter, let alone know how to get back."

Harry Potter just glared at his pale adversary, turning his attention back across the glittering lake.

"Is this a dream?" Draco questioned, taking a seat a few feet to the left of Harry.

"I don't know. I've never really cared enough to wonder," Harry replied. He sighed, pulling up grass and letting it blow away on the wind.

"What is this place?"

Harry shrugged, squinting up to the sky before lying back on the grass, his arms stretched on either side of him. "I come here sometimes. I didn't know anyone else could come."

"Well I had no desire to, I assure you," Draco tried to sneer at the boy, but found it hard to when he looked so peaceful and relaxed like he did. "Why would you want to come here? What's the point?" he questioned, looking around with disdain. There was nothing but endless grasslands behind him, mountains to his left and right, and the vast lake before him.

Harry took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "It's relaxing here…carefree. I come when it's hard to handle everything…" his voice dropped to a murmur as he sighed: "When I don't feel up to facing the world."

Draco frowned at the boy. "What do you mean? You're Harry Potter; the "Chosen One", Golden Boy. Everyone worships you. What's so hard about putting up with _that_?" he spat in disgust. Potter was always the center of attention, always the one in the limelight, something Draco envied greatly, and here he was _complaining_ about it!

Harry sat up, staring at the pale boy in amazement. "I don't think you understand just how much pressure is on me right now, or what my life has been like. I don't think you understand how it felt to watch Cedric die, or watch helplessly as Lestrange killed my godfather, the only _real_ family I had left. And then Dumbledore…" Harry trailed off and Draco felt an odd feeling sink into his stomach. Guilt? Pity? He wasn't sure what it was.

"So I come here. It keeps me sane, for whatever reason…calms me down, you know? When I'm here it feels like…nothing else really matters…but I can handle it anyways. It helps me survive. It helps me be strong."

Harry Potter locked gazes with Draco Malfoy, and for once no venom resided in their piercing stares. No ill thoughts, nor intentions, no loathing. They looked at each other as two neutral parties would if having a conversation such as theirs.

They held each other's eyes for the longest time, before Draco Malfoy nodded his head in a sign of recognition and respect. Harry Potter returned the nod, amazed, and he himself wondering if the world he created that now held his arch enemy of seven years was, in fact, a mere dream.


End file.
